


Her Favourite Colour

by shortandirritablee



Series: Mothers and Daughters [1]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra, Avatar: The Last Airbender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-19 00:37:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16129964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortandirritablee/pseuds/shortandirritablee





	Her Favourite Colour

If Izumi had to choose, she’d probably say that red was her favourite colour. This was hardly surprising, since she’d been surrounded by it her whole life: swaddled in it, clothed with it, housed by it. But the reason she loved this colour so much had nothing to do with those things, neither did it come from a feeling of patriotism or obligation to the Royal Family. She loved red because it was the colour of her mother’s lipstick.

Ever since she’d been a little girl, she could remember the way her mother gracefully dipped her brush into her crimson pot, and with practiced hands flawlessly painted her lips. It had amazed young Izumi, who immediately proceeded to stick her fingers in the pot and try to mimic her mother’s ministrations only to end up with splotches of red all over her face. Looking back, had anyone else done this- even her father- she suspected they would have swiftly been met with a series of knives to the hand. But not her.

Instead, her mother turned to face her, her own features elegantly defined, and laugh at the mess she’d managed to make. As she gazed into the mirror, she looked at her botched attempt next to her mother’s and decided she was going to look just like her one day.

*********************

Kya didn’t understand it. Of course, she was several years younger than Izumi, who was now fourteen. But even then, she could remember the awe she’d felt at that age.

“It’s so _girly_!” The younger girl had declared, confusing Izumi; _of course it was girly, how was that a problem?_

After several attempts at imparting her developing skills onto Kya- and on one occasion, Bumi- she realized that Kya would never share her love of what she considered to be a beautiful art form. Perhaps, in hindsight, years of watching Aunt Katara trying in vain to force Kya into her formal dresses should have been an indicator of her disinterest in the practice.

She decided to trudge back to her parent’s room where her mother was waiting to begin her makeup, the space next to her in front of the vanity open for Izumi.

*********************

By 18, Izumi was expected to represent the Fire Nation alongside her parents at every official event, which meant looking the part just like her mother. 

Years of sitting and watching had turned into doing, and this ritual with her mother had become a treasured island of solace in a sea of hectic palace life. It was at times like this when Mai and Izumi would talk about their days, perhaps gossip, and even laugh about some politician or other. Her skills with the brush were almost as sharp as her mother’s, and together they conducted a symphony of colour: deep crimsons or burgundies or rubies dancing across their mouths.

It was common for them to lose track of time entirely and accompanied by her mother’s lipstick was often the memory of her father leaning on the door frame to their chambers, smiling until they eventually spotted him, and her mother shooed him away.

“We’ll be ready soon, Zuko.”

“You said that half an hour ago. Are you trying to put off entertaining our beloved ministers?” 

“There’s certainly a possibility.”

The corners of her mouth never smudged when she smiled, not once. Izumi would have to work on that.

***************************

Royal Weddings usually entailed several hours of bombardment from official face painters, poking and prodding and covering. This wasn’t the case for Izumi, thankfully. It appeared as though everyone had long since learned how things were done in the Firelady’s parlour and that there was no way anyone but her mother would be painting her face for this day.

“How are you feeling?” Manicured hands deftly applied her lipstick while she nervously clasped her own hands in front of her. Her mother noticed her anxiousness.

“I was terrified the day I married your father, you know.” _No, she hadn’t_. 

“I was excited too, of course.” She said, smiling, “but a Royal Wedding doesn’t happen very often, and everyone always says the bride has to look perfect. It didn’t help having the court face painters floundering around me as though I was totally incompetent, either.” Izumi bit her cheeks to stop herself from smiling and ruining her mother’s work.

Eventually, Mai finished, and Izumi turned to look at her reflection. Her mother had chosen scarlet for the day; bold enough to be seen by the crowds but an equally gorgeous shade up close.

“You look beautiful,” her mother preened. Izumi was stunned.

“I look like you.”

***************************

Her lips no longer smudged when she smiled, but that didn’t stop her from being covered in some mess once her makeup was done. The old stool had been tossed and replaced with a longer one. There was room for her mother, her, and now, her own daughter.

Mai didn’t apply such heavy makeup these days, complaining that it got stuck in the raven-crow’s feet around her eyes, but the lipstick stayed. Now, as she looked at herself, she realised she’d achieved exactly what she’d set out to do as a child and couldn’t be happier.

“All done, Mommy!” She turned to see her little girl grinning. She’d managed to get her makeup on her eyebrows, and upon further inspection and much to Izumi's dismay, behind her left ear.

Had it been anyone else, she’d have been furious. But as she gazed upon her child, her eyes shining at her perceived accomplishment, she couldn’t help but giggle.

“You look wonderful, darling!” And her daughter jumped up and hugged her, ruining her own makeup in the process, not that she minded.

*********************

The spot to her left was empty, and instead of awaiting a little girl, her daughter, now a woman grown, would be on her way soon.

As she arranged her eye coal and powders, her hands settled on an ornately decorated pot, inside, her mother’s favourite: a wine so deep it was almost purple. She too had stopped applying such heavy creams to her face; it only got stuck in her laugh lines.

As she readied her brushes, she looked at her reflection: _spirits_ , she really had turned into her mother. Once sleek black hair had gone grey, and her previously sharp cheekbones had softened with age. But Mai was still there, Izumi could see it.

The doors behind her burst open and a figure bounded in with an energy she too had once possessed. She glanced to the still empty spot, then joined her daughter in her work. As she picked up her brush and dipped it into the pot with practiced hands, she smiled.

 _Yes; red certainly is a fine colour_.


End file.
